


The Rain of Snowfall

by orphan_account



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 08:17:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1597982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"For so long they just stood beneath the rain of snowfall, forgetting where they were in the world, forgetting that they had a family waiting for them at the car, forgetting that what they had with each other was wrong and forbidden, yet somehow so immensely perfect."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rain of Snowfall

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve never read the books before, so I’m only basing this fic on the show. This is a modern AU, and ‘Winterfell’ is the name of the neighborhood the Starks live in. There will be kink in this story, but I couldn’t fit it in in this first chapter.

The sun crawled its way above the horizon, showering Winterfell with light as it washed the night away. Robb Stark lay naked on his bed, his eyes transfixed on the ceiling, watching the morning light sweep across its grey surface. It was the first day of December, and the anniversary of Robb’s birth. Robb knew it would begin to snow today, shrouding the trees and blanketing the road with white. Every year, snow would fall on the first of December, just it did nineteen years ago, for Robb was a child of snowfall—his mother had labored through the night, her screams echoing through the dead of night, but as the first specks of snow broke free from the sky at daybreak, Robb broke free of his mother’s womb. _They will celebrate my birthday, just as they do each year_ , Robb thought bitterly. _And while father and mother and my sisters and brothers are having the time of their lives, Jon will be doing chores, far away from the party, just as he does every year._

He turned his head to his right, where his bastard half-brother, Jon Snow, was fast asleep. _They won’t be proud of me_ , thought Robb, _if they found out I'm sleeping with my bastard half-brother_. Robb was the eldest of the family, and the son his mother and father were most proud of. He had graduated from high school with perfect grades, and was accepted into five Ivy League schools in the US. But he declined every single offer in favor of the local college, for he wanted to stay close to home (and consequently close to Jon), a reason which both outraged his mother and touched her. But what would his family and all his friends think of him if they knew that the child of snowfall was falling for Snow?

Robb gingerly peeled off the blanket and swung his legs off the bed. If he wasn’t going to sleep, he might as well take a shower and prepare for the day. Just as he was about to leave, Jon’s hand shot out from under the blanket and gripped Robb’s wrist, startling him.

“Don’t go,” Jon whispered.

“I thought you were asleep,” Robb said quietly.

“I was. Then I woke up to you ditching me.”

“I’m just going to take a shower. I’ll be back,” Robb said. He turned and leaned over Jon, kissing him on the forehead. “If you stay, that is. But you should probably sleep some more. It’s going to be a long day.”

The hand on Robb’s wrist slackened, and Robb was able to twist his arm free. Just as he was entering his bathroom, he heard Jon say quietly, “I hate snowfall.”

That hurt. It didn’t help that Robb himself hated how Jon could never join the celebration, or how Catelyn was always harsher toward Jon than usual. It didn’t help that every time Robb thought of Jon, he would think of Jon’s birthday, which the family never celebrated. It didn’t help that Robb couldn’t sneak off to spend some alone time with Jon because he was too preoccupied keeping Arya, Bran, and Rickon happy. And it definitely didn’t help that every night on Robb’s birthday, Jon would lock himself in his room, refusing to talk to anyone, not even Robb.

The shower water was warm as it glided across Robb’s naked skin, but still Robb felt cold. But cold as he was right now, he knew it was the warmest part of his day, for tonight he would shiver and shiver without the warmth of Jon’s body against his.

❄

When Robb got back to his room, Jon was gone. The hurt that cut into Robb as he went to shower resurfaced, but he pushed it aside; after all, it wasn’t the first time Jon left early on his birthday. As Robb got dressed, he debated between knocking on Jon’s door or grabbing breakfast in the kitchen. His stomach growled at the thought of breakfast and churned at the thought of Jon. _Best to leave him alone_ , thought Robb. _If he wants to talk to me, he wouldn’t have left._ Pushing open his bedroom door, he cast a forlornly look at Jon’s door, directly across from his, and walked down the hallway and down the stairs.

His mother, Catelyn, was preparing breakfast at the stove as his father read the paper at the table. Robb walked over to his mother and planted a kiss on her cheek, then sat down next to his father, noticing his parents’ silence as he drummed his fingers on the table. He’d expected a bigger, louder reaction from his parents upon his entrance into the kitchen.

“Robb, stop that,” said his father.

“Stop what?”

“The thing you’re doing with your fingers.”

“Oh.” And he stopped. The room was quiet save for the sound of his mother frying eggs.

Footsteps sounded from the stairs and Robb turned to see Sansa coming in. She was well dressed, her flaming hair nicely combed and curled, and her face lightly dabbed with make up. Her eyes locked with Robb’s, and she paused. “Well this is new,” she mused. “It’s Robb’s birthday and the three of you are acting like you’ve lost your tongues. Mum, are you frying Stark tongues for breakfast?”

“Sansa!” Catelyn admonished, aghast at the imagery.

“Nope,” Sansa said to herself as she drew her seat next to Robb. “Did someone die?”

Ned and Catelyn said nothing. Robb and Sansa looked at each other in equal shock and confusion.

“So... someone died?” Sansa said cautiously, the gravity of the situation finally making its impression upon her.

“Your uncle Benjen,” said Ned, his voice cracking on his brother’s name, “Is dead.”

“The military guy?” Sansa asked.

“Yes, he was in the military. And today, we’re not going to celebrate Robb’s birthday. We’re going to his funeral,” said Catelyn sternly. “I’m sorry Robb, but this is important to your father.”

Robb nodded, a strange sense of relief suffusing into his veins. “So is the entire family going?”

“Yes,” his mother answered.

“Even Jon?”

“Yes,” interceded his father before his wife could object. “The whole family includes Jon. And the Starks won’t be the only ones there. The Reeds are coming too, as well as many other families.”

Robb looked at his mother, upon whose face disapproval was clearly stamped. “I’ll go tell the others,” he said. And with that, he disappeared from the table.

❄

A knock came from the door. Jon sighed, knowing Catelyn was standing behind the door, ready to yell at him and give him orders. He knew that he had to do the work not because the house needed it, but because Catelyn wanted him preoccupied. Robb’s mother never liked him being so close to her son, but despite her best efforts to tear the two apart, Robb would always find his way back to Jon. That was one thing Jon loved and hated about Robb—his perseverance against all odds.

Jon rose and opened the door to find himself face to face with Robb. “We’re going to a funeral,” he said solemnly. “Uncle Benjen’s.”

Something in Jon snapped. “ _What_?”

Robb, sensing Jon’s fury, took a step back. “Jon, I’m sorry.”

“What are you talking about?” Jon grabbed his brother by the shoulders, panic rising in his voice. “Robb!”

“I’m sorry, Jon, I’m so sorry.” Jon’s grip on Robb faltered. Uncle Benjen... no... this could not be happening. All words evaporated from Jon’s mouth as he slid to the floor, sheltering his face with his hands as Robb bent down to comfort him.

“I’ll be fine,” Jon told him, though they both knew it was a lie. Uncle Benjen was a father to Jon, more than Ned ever was. One day, Jon hoped to become a watcher on the Wall, just as Benjen was. He knew it wasn’t a pleasant, honorable job. He just liked the coldness and the solitude, away from his father, who cared for him less than the rest of his true-born children, and his step-mother, who hated him more than she could hate anything else. The only thing that held him back was Robb, and maybe Arya, but in time the Wall would block out those memories as well. The loss of his uncle, someone he knew at the Wall to guide him along the way, made his future far dimmer and so much more frightening.

Jon uncovered his face and stared at Robb. “I’ll be fine,” he repeated, sounding even less sure of himself than he was a minute ago. “Go on, tell the others. I’ll see you out there in the snow.”

❄

The funeral was a dreadful affair. Robb stood with Bran and Rickon, staring at the coffin in the center, a large black box dotted with white flecks of snow. Jon was nowhere to be seen, even though he travelled in the car with the rest of them. Robb supposed that his brother wanted a place alone to grieve without disturbance, so he stayed with his younger brothers and waited for Jon to return.

The funeral spanned for an hour, at the end of which Robb spotted his father talking to Howland Reed and Robert Baratheon with a pained expression on his face. _I’d better leave him be_ , thought Robb. Sansa was conversing offhandedly with the Tyrells, boredom written plainly on their faces. Catelyn was standing near the car with Arya, Bran, and Rickon, all of whom were playing a game of their mother’s phone to pass the time. Robb noted, however, a blonde boy slightly younger than Sansa staring intently at Bran, his gaze never flinching away from Robb’s brother. _Bran has an admirer_ , thought Robb. _That, or a stalker._ Optimistically rooting for the former, Robb let the boy be. _Where the fuck is Jon?_

After another five minutes, Robb lost his patience. Jon would had returned to the car unless he purposely intended not to leave the funeral, in which case, Robb would need to drag him home. Nonetheless, he had to find his brother.

❄

Robb found Jon amid a copse of trees, where the snow piled the thickest and swirled around most fervently. Midway through his hunt, Robb discovered footprints on the snow that were unmistakably Jon’s, and upon following them into a forest, he found his brother.

“Jon,” Robb said softly as he approached the crouched figure before him. “Jon, it’s best that we leave now. The funeral’s over.”

“It’s quite ironic, isn’t it,” Jon said at last, bitterness laced in every word, “That shit like this always happens on your birthday. I should be happy on your birthdays, even if I don’t get to sit at the family table. I should be happy that you were born, because if you weren’t, I’d be truly alone.

“But somehow the first of December is always the day that hell makes a visit to my life. Two years before, on this same day, Ned told me about my mum. I thought I’d be happy to know more about her, but I wasn’t. All I could think of is how my father cheated on your mother, what a hypocrite he was, talking about morals and honor, how I was an accident, and how I wasn’t even wanted by my true mother.

“Then last year, Ned told me that my mother died of some disease. But I didn’t care so much about that, because I thought you were going to leave for college in the States, and I needed to leave at some point for the Wall.”

“The Wall?” Robb asked, his voice tinged with incredulity. “You wanted to serve on the Wall and meet the same fate as Ben...,” his voice trailed off as the realization dawned on him. “Of course,” he whispered to himself.

“And this year, Uncle Benjen died,” Jon continued, his face turning red with rage. “And the worst part of it all is that every year, on this day, I can’t bear to see your face, because you’d be happy and celebrated and I’d be left to wonder if you were sent to curse me. My own brother. My own _boyfriend_. A curse in my fucking life.”

Robb was quiet, his breathing paused, his heart immobile. He stared at Jon, in hurt, betrayal, in pity, misery, but Jon returned his icy stare with fire. The redness was fading from Jon’s cheeks, but his eyes bespoke just as much rage as his words, his irises black as charcoal with a ring of grey smoke at its rim. For what seemed like an eternity, the brothers just stared at each other, searching for compunction, for sympathy, but their searches in each other were fruitless. Jon’s words squeezed at Robb’s throat, so much so that Robb himself felt like what Jon said he was—a curse, a blight. A burden for Jon to carry. But Jon was just as much Robb’s burden to carry. Robb sacrificed a potentially fruitful career for his brother, disobeyed his father’s admonitions not to lie, allowed his relationship with his mother to fray as he sided with his brother in every fight, all for the sake of a boy he loved who he wasn’t supposed to love. A boy who did not know whether to love himself or despise himself any more than he knew whether to love his brother or despise him.

Robb loved his brother, and he was unequivocally sure that his brother requited his affection. Breaking the physical silence between them, Robb held out his hand and Jon’s gaze fell to it. Slowly, he raised his hand too, and entwined their fingers together.

“I’m sorry,” Robb whispered, his head dipping closer toward Jon. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve done. But I’m not sorry for making you smile. I’m not sorry for breaking through to you when no one else could, not even Arya. I’m not sorry for making you want me, for driving you to my room every night, to seek my comfort and impart yours to me. I’m not sorry for knowing you, for knowing what it feels like to be truly happy, for knowing what it feels like to be miserable, to know what it feels like to live. To have someone for whom to live. The only thing I can be sorry for is all the bad I’ve done in your life, and how I’m too selfish to let you go when everything points to it that I should, for your sake and mine.”

Jon’s fingers gripped Robb’s tightly. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve made you bear,” Jon said quietly. “And I’m sorry for what I said. You’re not a curse. You could never be a curse. You’re the only good thing in my life, the only person I have to live for. The person to whom I always find my way back whenever I am lost. The brother who always finds his way back to me against what odds there may be.”

The snow was falling between the child of snowfall and the bastard called Snow. Pieces of white caught in the black strands of Jon’s hair, and Robb raised his other hand, the one that was not clasped together with Jon’s, to stroke aside the white and black threads obscuring his brother’s cheek. Leaning forward, Robb brushed his lips ever so lightly against Jon’s, tasting the sweetness of his lips and the watery snowflakes upon it. For so long they just stood beneath the rain of snowfall, forgetting where they were in the world, forgetting that they had a family waiting for them at the car, forgetting that what they had with each other was wrong and forbidden, yet somehow so immensely perfect. The winds of winter began to beat at them, carrying particles of snow gently around them, but the fire they kindled within their embrace shielded them from the cold.

Robb was wrong that morning when he thought that his shower would be the warmest part of his day, and somewhere among the trees, cloaked in shadows, Jojen Reed watched the two in agreement. _If ice can burn_ , he thought, _Then love and hate can mate._

**Author's Note:**

> Awkward appearance of Jojen at the end? It’s okay, him watching the two has more significance than just the incorporation of a quote. :)
> 
> It’d be awesome if you could leave some comments. I actually don’t have a very strict plan for how I’m going to take this story. I’m just writing it because I love the Starks so much and I want them to have a normal death-free life.


End file.
